His Treasure
by Aquaria Identity 07
Summary: Whilst the Company is riding on the road, something falls out of Bifur's sack without the dwarf's knowledge, and Bilbo retrieves it. Perplexed, and not quite sure what to make of it, the hobbit shows the item to Óin, forcing the stunned healer to confront the manic dwarf for answers, leading to a surprising revelation that changes their relationship forever. Óin/Bifur.
1. Lost

**His Treasure**

**Summary: **Whilst the Company is riding on the road, something falls out of Bifur's sack without the dwarf's knowledge, and Bilbo retrieves it. Perplexed, and not quite sure what to make of it, the hobbit shows the item to Óin, forcing the stunned healer to confront the manic dwarf for answers, leading to a surprising revelation that changes their relationship forever. Óin/Bifur.

**A/N: **My first fanfic for "The Hobbit"! Love the book and movie, and now obsessing over Óin and Bifur, especially the idea of them being a couple (deafness + being misunderstood = match made in Heaven). So please, no flames. Iglishmêk and Khuzdûl are written in italics. Features an overprotective Glóin, an inquisitive Bofur and of course, Bilbo "I'm not a burglar!" Baggins. Enjoy! :)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own "The Hobbit", which belongs to JRR Tolkien and his estate.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Chapter 1: Lost<strong>

If Bilbo Baggins hadn't fallen behind the Company as they rode along on the road, he probably would have continued on his way, and the item that fell out of Bifur's sack would have been lost forever.

The hobbit had fallen into conversation with Bofur and Bombur, both of whom were riding at a leisurely pace on their ponies and bringing up the rear; Bilbo found the dwarf brothers to be easygoing and amicable, but he felt a little intimidated by their cousin, Bifur. Whether it was his wild, rugged appearance – from his long, wild black hair, his flowing black-going-on-white beard to the Orc axe protruding from his forehead - or his communicating through gruff Khuzdûl accompanied by Iglishmêk, or the manic gestures he made whilst he spoke … Bilbo was not sure which factor contributed to his fears, but nevertheless the hobbit felt uneasy around the wild-haired dwarf, afraid to engage him in conversation.

Bifur himself was quiet as he rode along his cousins, gazing ahead with unusual focus. Riding in front of them were the brothers Óin and Glóin, and they were engaged in friendly banter. The fiery-haired dwarf casually passed a ribald remark regarding his brother's hearing, and Óin retorted that he was not above swatting his younger brother with his ear-trumpet. They laughed good-naturedly, unaware that Bifur was practically staring holes into Óin's back. Bofur tried a few times to get his cousin's attention, but Bifur seemed miles away: his focus was on the healer and no one else alone.

Bilbo was struck curious by the dark-haired dwarf's intense concentration on Óin, so much so that he absent-mindedly accepted an offering of a snack from Bombur, and he was surprised when an apple whizzed past his nose and landed on the ground in front of him, startling his pony enough to stop her in her tracks: Bilbo yelped, quickly wrapping his arms around Myrtle's neck to prevent himself from falling in a heap on the ground. His cheeks were a faint red as the two brothers roared with laughter, stopping their ponies to look at the hobbit. Surprisingly, Bifur stopped too, though he looked loath to have stopped at all.

"You better rescue that there apple before your pony scoffs it up!" said Bofur with a grin. "Want us to wait for you, Master Baggins?"

"No, no, there's no need, Mister Bofur," replied Bilbo as he unwrapped his arms from around poor Myrtle's neck. "I'll be quick sticks. Go on ahead!"

"Alright. Come along, Bombur, Bifur," said the hat-wearing dwarf to his rotund brother and his cousin, urging his pony forward.

Bombur followed suit, munching on a bright-red apple. Bifur cast a wary eye on the hobbit, muttered something incomprehensible under his breath and urged his pony to catch up with the rapidly moving Company, riding past his cousins before he took his place behind Óin and Glóin.

Out of the corner of Bilbo's eye, he saw something tumble out of the wild-haired dwarf's open sack as Bifur rushed past Bofur and Bombur, the brothers lost in idle chatter to have even noticed. It fell a little ahead of the apple, which Myrtle contemplated with hungry eyes. Bilbo cupped his mouth and was about to alert Bifur, when he remembered the look the dwarf gave him a few seconds before – something told the hobbit that Bifur didn't want to be bothered again, and Bilbo was not banking on escaping with another dirty look.

Grumbling to himself, Bilbo climbed off the pony and retrieved the apple, which he immediately fed to Myrtle. Turning his back on the grateful pony, Bilbo ventured forward and bent down to pick up the fallen item. As he examined it for damage, the expression on his face transitioned from irritation to surprise, then to utter confusion, and then quickly back to surprise.

_What is Bifur doing with this? Did he make this?_

"Oy, Master Baggins! Keep up! From here you look like an ant!" came Bofur's voice, interrupting the hobbit's thoughts.

"I'm coming!" answered Bilbo, pocketing the item and, with a small degree of difficulty, climbed back on Myrtle's back and urged her to catch up with the Company. It was getting dark, and everyone was getting tired. The sooner they set up camp, the sooner they could eat and rest before going on with their journey.

Declining another apple from Bombur, Bilbo glanced at Bifur, who again had taken to stare at Óin's back. Bofur passed a humourous comment about the punctuality of Hobbits, and he managed to wheedle a grunt out of his wild-haired cousin and nothing more than that. Óin and Glóin overheard the comment and chuckled. The healer looked over his shoulder and smiled at the brothers and their cousin.

To Bilbo's amazement, Bifur looked away, and his cheeks – O_h my hat, am I really seeing this? _thought Bilbo in alarm_ – _were flushing pink. _Flushing! _

Óin didn't seem to notice this, and was soon talking to his brother again.

Three seconds later, Bifur, once again, had his eyes on the healer.

As he stared at Bifur and then at Óin, Bilbo reached into his pocket and felt the retrieved item, trying to make sense of everything that he had seen so far.

That, and he was working up the courage to approach the manic dwarf to give his possession back.

* * *

><p>Whatever courage the hobbit gained was lost again when Bifur made a scene.<p>

No sooner had the Company set up camp in a clearing surrounded by high trees and many bushes, the wild-haired dwarf suddenly began to yell curses in Khuzdûl. Bilbo watched as the screaming dwarf rummaged angrily in his sack, pulling out extra clothing, blocks of wood and various tools, and throwing them to the ground in a bad temper. The sack was then unceremoniously flung to the side. Bifur stood from his seat, looking frantically around him, his flashing eyes searching the ground. He kept crying something in Khuzdûl along the lines of "_Ogamat!_", and from his tone, Bilbo could tell that Bifur was extremely upset about something.

Moreover, he had a hunch it had something to do with the item in his pocket.

All the dwarves – including Thorin Oakenshield, no less - and Gandalf intervened, trying to calm Bifur down and make sense of his current state. The wild-haired dwarf cried "_Ogamat!_" several times before he calmed down, allowing his cousins to attend to him. Bofur spoke softly to him, offering kind and comforting words; Bombur offered his cousin an ale to drink. Gandalf and Thorin, however, demanded to know why Bifur had exploded like that, and they wanted to know _now_.

Bifur did not deign to reply. He silently broke away from the group, trudged to a spot under a tree and sat down with a thump. Back against the tree, he pulled out a knife and a block of wood, and began to whittle. He seemed determined to sit, whittle and sulk for the rest of the evening.

Gandalf and the dwarves sighed to themselves before dispersing. Bofur whispered cheerfully to Bilbo as he passed, "Don't look so worried, Master Baggins. Bifur will come 'round eventually. Give him time!"

"I'll take your word for it," replied Bilbo, not entirely convinced by the hat-wearing dwarf's words.

Looking at Bifur sitting there, a fierce, sulking look dominating his rugged face, the hobbit's mind was made up: there was no way he was going to approach the dwarf now and return the missing item, not while he held a knife in his hand. Bilbo didn't know how Bifur would react after he had searched high and low for his possession now deemed lost, but he was sure that Bifur would not exactly be pleased to know that the hobbit, the Company's official burglar, had his possession all along.

Bilbo inwardly groaned, burying his face in his hands. Sooner or later Bifur will find out, and the later he left the matter unresolved, the more his chances of not coming away unscathed increased.

_Unless …_

Bilbo lifted his head, looking out at the scene before him. Thorin, Balin and Gandalf were deep in conversation in the top far-right corner of the clearing. To their left, Dori was lecturing Nori about some trivial matter, though it was clear that the star-shaped-haired dwarf was not really listening. Ori sat between his brothers on the ground, writing away in his journal, probably writing about Bifur's tantrum. On the right, Fíli and Kíli were sitting with Dwalin, sharpening their weapons and talking about goodness knows what. Óin and Glóin sat together by the fire, smoking their pipes, and Bombur was adding the finishing touches to their supper. Bofur finished packing his cousin's sack and he, too, busied himself with carving a piece that was nearing completion.

Bilbo looked behind him at the row of rather tall bushes, the plants promising cover and complete privacy ...

Taking a deep breath, Bilbo walked over to the fire and stopped next to Óin, tapping the healer on the shoulder. "Mister Óin?"

The grey-haired dwarf turned around, his pipe now in his left hand and his ear-trumpet now in his right. He was a sophisticated, well-read and intelligent dwarf, who was easy to get on with, provided he could hear what you were saying. He was muscular and strong for his age, and he had fine dark-grey hair and a marvellous beard with two intricate braids curled upwards. His scimitar of a nose was sharp, but he had a friendly, witty mouth and youthful brown eyes. An altogether decent-looking dwarf.

Óin smiled and greeted the hobbit in his usual gruff voice. "Ah, Master Baggins! Do just call me Óin. We can do 'way with "Mister". Now, what can I do for you?"

"I'm terribly sorry to bother you, Óin, but, uh," Bilbo paused, his eyes darting around quickly at his surroundings before he resumed talking, albeit in a soft whisper, "can I talk to you for a minute? It's about a … well, a particularly delicate matter, if you will."

"A delicate matter, eh?" boomed Óin. "Nothing to be ashamed of. Well now, lad, let's hear it!"

To Bilbo's horror, when the partially-deaf Óin spoke, his robust voice rang out, attracting the attention of _every __bloody __dwarf_ around them. They all turned and looked at the embarrassed hobbit, fast becoming red under their hot gazes. Even Gandalf's amused look made him blush further. Bifur had stopped in his whittling and stared at the hobbit, his head canted to the side. His sulky expression transitioned to curiousity, and slowly changed into what looked like suspicion, making Bilbo gulp in fear.

Óin was oblivious to his companion's discomfort, and was waiting for Bilbo to speak. "Master Baggins? What is it you're wanting to discuss with me?"

"Actually," the hobbit squeaked, clearing his throat, "it's a rather _private _matter, and I'd prefer it if we took our conversation some place else, say, behind that bush?"

He pointed to the tall bush behind him. The healer shifted his curious gaze to the bush for a few moments, and then he turned his gaze back to Bilbo, frowning. "Behind there?"

"Yes, please. I promise, I'll only keep you for five minutes, just in time for supper," said Bilbo, a pleading look in his eyes.

Óin glanced at his brother, who was equally perplexed as he, and finally he sighed. "Alright then. Let's go."

Bilbo turned on his heels and walked towards the bush, feeling everyone's eyes on his back and not at all loath to escape them. Despite Glóin's protests, Óin got up and followed the hobbit, wondering what was ailing the resident burglar to the point that he could not speak openly about it in front of the Company.

_One way to find out, _he thought as the two of them disappeared behind the bush.

He did not realise that Bifur stared after him with a doleful look in his eyes.

* * *

><p>"Alright, Master Hobbit, what's troublin' you?"<p>

They were behind the bush, out of earshot of, and completely hidden from, the Company. The moonlight illuminated the area behind the undergrowth. Óin stood before Bilbo, a gloved hand on his hip. He looked distinguished in his grey and brown clothing – but then again, the healer was a distinguished dwarf, and he was not one to beat around the bush (so to speak), nor did he have time for waffling. So, Bilbo was determined not to waffle, altogether keen to lift the weight off his back.

Clearing his throat, Bilbo answered, "I have to show you something."

Óin raised an eyebrow in understanding. "Oh, I see. Like I said, laddie, nothing to be ashamed of! We all get sores once in a while. We won't judge you."

"No, nothing like that!" cried Bilbo, trying to keep himself composed (and failing miserably). "This is something else entirely. I honestly don't know what to make of it, so I thought I could show _you_ because ..."

He paused, biting on his bottom lip. Óin urged him on with his eyes.

"... perhaps I should just _show _you, so you'll see what I mean."

With that being said, the hobbit reached into his pocket and pulled out the item that had been the root of his nerves all evening.

When Óin saw it, a small gasp of surprise escaped from his mouth.

_What in Mahal's name …?_

It was a wooden toy, beautifully carved. It was quite small, half the size of a dwarf's hand, but it didn't make it any less beautiful. The moonlight reflected off the toy's wooden surface, illuminating the immense and exquisite details of the piece. It was obvious that a lot of care and effort went into making the toy.

But it was the _likeness _of the toy that stunned Óin, for the toy, a figurine in fact, looked _exactly like__ him_.

When Óin held out his left hand, Bilbo gratefully passed the toy over and watched as the grey-haired dwarf examined the figurine of himself.

The miniature version of Óin was extremely elaborate. The healer's brown eyes took in the details of the figurine, wearing its hood over its head and its cloak flying behind it. The texture of the toy's clothing looked realistic – Óin could see that the toy's gloves were reminiscent of woollen material that his own gloves were made of. The figurine, with the same build, clutched a sharp-looking iron staff, its ear-trumpet hanging on its side and the satchel it carried brimmed with medical tools and supplies. The intricate, curled braids stood out from the fine beard and moustache, and the shape of the sharp nose was spot-on. Its mouth was set in a friendly smile. The eyes, lined though they were, seemingly sparkled with life. The figurine's booted feet was set on a small wooden platform, similar to a wooden mannequin on a wooden base.

Carved delicately into the front of the platform was one word: ÓIN.

"Where did you get this?" Óin breathed, too amazed at the toy in his hand to look at Bilbo.

Bilbo shuffled his feet, looking down at the ground as he said, "It fell out of Bifur's sack."

"Fell out of _Bifur's sack?_" exclaimed Óin, now looking at the hobbit with wide brown eyes. "Did you just say it fell out of _Bifur's_ sack, laddie?"

"Yes," answered Bilbo quietly. "I saw it fall out of his sack when I fell behind the group earlier, and well, I rescued it." The hobbit gestured to the piece in the healer's hands. "I assume that Bifur made it, and I've meant to give it back to him, no question about it, but I couldn't find the right time to, uh, approach him and return it."

Óin stared at the hobbit, unable to believe what he was hearing. So many thoughts were running through the healer's head at that moment: _Bifur made this! A toy that looks like me! But why me? Why did he make this in the first place?_

"I thought it best to show you," interrupted Bilbo's anxious voice, "because, like I said just now, I don't know what to make of it_, _and truth be told -" his tone became sheepish, "- after what happened a few minutes ago, I don't think _I'm_ able to give this toy back to him, and I was thinking - well, _hoping_ is the better word, I think - that perhaps maybe _you _can give it back to him?" Here his tone became obviously desperate. "I don't think he likes me as much as he seems to like you, and he won't be upset with you like I'm sure he'll be with me."

The images of Bifur searching his sack, throwing about its contents and finally flinging the sack away, cursing in Khuzdûl as he seemed to be looking around on the ground for something in desperation, flashed in Óin's mind like lightning, and the reason for the wild-haired dwarf's fit suddenly became clear.

"_Mahalu-me turg_," murmured the healer in realisation, tugging a braid. "No wonder he was actin' out of sorts. He must have thought that he lost this toy forever."

Then he looked at Bilbo, a frown tugging at his lips. "What do you mean, he doesn't like you as much as he _seems _to like me? Explain, Master Baggins, if you will be so kind."

Poor Bilbo's cheeks flushed in the moonlight. "Well, it seems to me that Bifur likes you a bit – possibly in the, um ... _romantic_ sense."

His cheeks flushed even deeper, and, to his astonishment, Óin began to blush as well. The dwarf's cheeks glowed pink in the moonlight, and it glowed even brighter as the healer spluttered, "_Romantic sense_, Master Baggins? What gives you _that_ idea?"

"It's the way he stares at you," blurted out Bilbo. "Staring at you in such an intense way whilst we were riding, as if no one else but you existed. Why, his eyes practically bored into your back! When you smiled at him, did you know that he blushed? I didn't think that was even possible!"

Again, he gestured at the toy. "And if Bifur making a scene all because he lost a toy that looks like you doesn't prove that he has feelings for you, I don't know what will!"

Silence reigned between the two of them. Bilbo saw a thoughtful look pass over Óin's face, his brown eyes looking down at the beautifully crafted toy. He ran his fingers down its wooden surface, captivated by the fine details of the figurine, and the hobbit could tell that the healer greatly admired Bifur's piece of handiwork: not out of vanity, but rather because he was touched that the toy-making dwarf chose him, out of everyone else, to use as a model for the piece.

Bilbo sighed and then spoke, a touch of finality in his voice. "Look, Óin, I'm terribly sorry for bringing up this development on you so suddenly, and there's a lot to take in, I know. But I'm afraid there's nothing I can do about it, as it's not my place to meddle in anyone's affairs. I could be wrong about everything, and you can choose to not listen to me because of that strong possibility. All I ask of you is to return that toy to Bifur, and to tell him that I didn't steal it from him nor did I intend to cause him any anguish whilst it was in my possession. Will you please do that for me, Óin?"

"Aye, laddie, I'll do just that," whispered Óin, though his voice sounded distant. He had eyes only for the toy, as if the hobbit was not there. "I'll do just that."

Before anything more could be said, Bombur's voice suddenly rang out, "SUPPER'S READY!"

"ÓIN! MASTER BAGGINS! Get a bloody move-on 'fore I come and get you m'self!" That was, unmistakably, Glóin.

Bilbo watched the healer pocket the toy. It made the pocket bulge slightly, but otherwise nothing seemed out of the ordinary with the dwarf's appearance. Óin looked at Bilbo and murmured hurriedly, "Not a word is to be said to the others about this, understand?"

"When will you approach Bifur?" Bilbo asked, anxiously.

"Soon," answered Óin gruffly, turning his back on the hobbit, ready to go back.

"When's that?" hissed the hobbit, unsatisfied with the answer.

Óin stopped and looked at him tiredly, his hand resting on the pocket. "Soon."

* * *

><p>When Óin and Bilbo finally emerged from behind the bush, they were met with curious looks and a barrage of silly questions like, "Well, Master Baggins, has Óin resolved your <em>delicate matter?<em>" (Bofur) and "Was it something nasty to look at, Óin? OUCH!" (Nori, earning himself a hit from Dori).

Óin only smiled in reply, and Bilbo blushed, mumbling about doctor-patient confidentiality. As they approached the pot of food, the hobbit chanced a glance in Bifur's direction. The dwarf in question still sat against the tree with his whittling, though he was looking in their direction, particularly at Óin. His eyes, Bilbo noted with astonishment, had attained a sadness so uncommonly seen on him.

_He mourns for the loss of the toy, _thought Bilbo, feeling pangs of pity for Bifur. _So does that mean that he _really_ has feelings for Óin? Now now, Bilbo, none of your business. Besides, I could be wrong – which would be a first._

Collecting their bowls, Bilbo sat near Fíli and Kíli, the brothers coming up with suggestions about what Bilbo's mystery ailment, from insect bites to rashes on unmentionable areas, and they and those surrounding them would roar with laughter at the mortified looks on the hobbit's face. Óin took his place next to Glóin, who kept assaulting his older brother with questions and demanding answers regarding the talk behind the bush. The healer was silent and just ate his food, only replying at the meal's conclusion, "We had words, is all, and they are to remain between the Halfling and myself."

Glóin grumbled about this, but Óin was not listening. Instead, Bilbo watched as the healer stared past his younger brother and looked at Bifur, who was being talked to by Bofur. His gloved hand, Bilbo saw, went subconsciously to his pocket, but he pulled it out just as the wild-haired dwarf looked in his direction.

Their eyes locked – youthful brown and saddened grey – and Bifur, momentarily surprised, immediately looked down. His black locks fell over his face before it hid the blush that suddenly crept to his cheeks.

Óin looked, for a moment, stunned. His face turned an impressive shade of red, which alarmed Glóin enough to stop grumbling.

"Óin? Are you alright? Have you come down ill?"

The fiery-haired dwarf pressed a hand to his brother's forehead, but Óin swatted it away. "Nothing is wrong, brother. I'm a bit tired. Rest is all I need, after which I shall be as right as rain."

Glóin looked unsure, but he nodded anyway. The brothers continued to talk. Bilbo bit back a sigh of relief. The way the fiery-haired dwarf looked over his older brother, he thought for sure that he would notice the bulge in Óin's pocket and bring everyone's attention to it.

_The sooner Óin speaks to Bifur and gives him back the toy, the better, _he thought firmly. _This anxiety is killing me! I say, though, I can't imagine what Óin must be feeling right about now. I truly am sorry about throwing him into this mess, but at least Bifur wouldn't dare lay a finger on him. As for me …_

Bilbo gulped. He didn't want to think about _that_.

* * *

><p>Óin gazed at the toy, turning it over in his hands. It truly was a stunning piece, made with effort, time, tenderness, maybe even <em>love …<em>

The grey-haired dwarf felt his face become warm, and again he thanked Mahal that, as he laid on his side in his bedroll with his back to the others, no one could see him blush. Everyone was asleep, save for Thorin, who kept watch, but he never noticed the healer's movements. Glóin stirred in his sleep beside him, shivering slightly before shifting closer to his brother. Óin, however, only paid attention to the figurine.

_Bifur made this. It's so hard to take in, that he created a figurine in my likeness, _he thought, running a finger over the carving of his name on the base. _Then, does that mean the hobbit's right? _**Is **_Bifur in love with _me_? Oh, this is frustratin'! It does me nerves no good, dwelling on these thoughts! Curse the Halfling! And damn Bifur for making this blasted thing! And damn him twice over for doing this to me …_

Sighing in frustration, he pocketed the toy once more before settling into a more comfortable position in his bedroll. _Go to sleep. Rest your head and let your heart do all the work._

_Tomorrow, _Óin thought tiredly, before sleep took him. _Tomorrow, Bifur and I will have words._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **_Ogamat! -_ **Not good!**

_Mahalu-me turg - _**By Mahal's beard.**

Intended for this fanfic to be a oneshot, but it will have to be two chapters instead of one, I suppose. More lovey-dovey goodness with these two! :) Really, these guys need more love - this pairing needs more love, to be precise. What's Óin going to say to Bifur tomorrow?

Reviews are welcome! ;)


	2. Found

**His Treasure**

**Chapter 2: Found**

_Awkward._

That's how Bilbo Baggins described the atmosphere as the Company continued on their journey. He was riding once more at the rear with Bofur and Bombur, both of whom were coaxing Bifur to speak to them and have him explain his outburst last night. However, the wild-haired dwarf maintained his silence; his unfocused gaze fell on everything but his cousins, who gave up. When Bilbo happened to meet his gaze, Bifur narrowed his eyes, a frown tugging at his lips. Even when Bilbo turned away, he could feel the dwarf's eyes scrutinising him, and it made the hobbit feel very uncomfortable.

The same thing happened with Óin and Glóin. As they rode along each other, Glóin was growing irritated with, and worried about, his brother, for he was also quiet. When the fiery-haired dwarf spoke, Óin did not reply, and it appeared that he wasn't listening, either. A broody expression dominated his visage – he was too deep in his thoughts to partake in any conversation. His hand was in his pocket, running his fingers over the toy that was the cause of both his and Bifur's strange moods.

When Glóin asked if what happened between him and Bilbo last night was the root of his silence, Óin snapped out of his thinking and finally responded, practically barking, "Glóin, please. Put that matter out of your mind, for Mahal's sake! Stop frettin', you hear me?"

"Brother, I -"

Óin removed his ear-trumpet and urged his pony to ride ahead, passing by the others – who were surprised to see the healer move so fast - until he was near the front with a bemused Balin. Glóin's mouth fell open in shock. Bilbo, Bofur and Bombur, witnessing this outburst, stared at each other in embarrassment. Bifur stared after the grey-haired dwarf, opening his mouth to say something, but immediately closing it. Instead, he glared at Bilbo, as if Óin's blow-up was all his fault, before looking down at his lap.

When he recovered from his shock, Glóin turned and threw a fierce, dirty look in Bilbo's direction. The dwarf glared at him for a full five seconds, which unnerved the hobbit greatly, and then he looked ahead, cursing to himself under his breath.

Bilbo gulped. _This is what they mean when they say being between a rock and a hard place._

And it was _awkward._

* * *

><p>The black-velvet sky was dotted with diamond-like stars, and the moon cast its light over the sheltered area in which the Company set up camp for the night. The trees surrounding the clearing were incredibly tall, as if their branches were reaching out towards the heavens to grab the stars from the sky. The fire was blazing, and Gandalf, Bilbo and the dwarves – except Bifur, whose back was against another tree a little away from the others and again brooding as he ate his food – sat nearer to the flames for want of warmth.<p>

Bilbo sat in-between Fíli and Bofur; he was not in the mood for Bombur's spectacular stew that was steaming in his hands: his anxiety, borne out of the many harsh looks he received from Glóin (who sat grumpy in silence beside his brother), was eating him up on the inside. Really, the last thing on his mind right now was to eat food.

"What's the matter, lad, aren't you hungry?" asked Bofur, sounding concerned. "I don't sleep well at night knowing that someone's goin' empty-bellied whilst we all have full stomachs!"

"I don't feel like eating anything right now, thanks," replied Bilbo, forcing a smile. He looked at Bombur apologetically. "I'm terribly sorry, Bombur. I'll have this the next time you make it."

Bombur sniffed. "Dunno if I'm going to make it again." The rotund, red-haired dwarf lowered his voice to a whisper. "When one person doesn't eat it, that means it's no good."

"What? But I -"

"Not you, Master Hobbit," whispered Bombur hurriedly. "I'm talkin' about _Óin_. He usually loves my dishes, what with all its herbs and spices. Now look at him – he's hardly touched his stew! Discouraging, that's what it is."

Bilbo looked across the fire at the healer. It seemed that Óin, too, was not all that hungry. He only had a few spoonfuls of the stew before setting the full bowl down beside him, staring into the embers of the fire for a long time whilst the others ate. His brown eyes, lit up by the light of the burning flames, met those of the hobbit, and he gave an imperceptible little nod before suddenly getting up.

Conversations that were occurring came to a stand-still. All eyes – dwarves', wizard's and especially the hobbit's - were on the grey-haired dwarf as he walked away from them and made his way to the tree where Bifur was sitting, occupied with his food. The wild-haired dwarf, hearing no words being spoken, looked up from his stew to see _Óin standing in front of him,_ and he bore a look of total surprise. Not even his black locks could disguise the rising blush in his cheeks as his grey eyes met that of the healer's, and Óin could feel his own face burn. They stared at each for a few seconds before Óin spoke:

"Bifur, I want to speak to you, _in private,_ if you don't mind."

Before Bifur could say anything, Óin went on firmly, "Meet me in five minutes behind over there." He gestured towards the trees far behind Bifur. "Five minutes, mind. I'll wait no longer than that."

He paused. "The matter I am wantin' to discuss with you can't wait, either. See you in five minutes."

With that said, Óin stalked off towards the aforementioned trees, the darkness swallowing him up.

Bifur watched him as he left, and the moment the healer disappeared, the manic dwarf suddenly began shoving spoonful after spoonful of his stew into his mouth, not pausing for a single breath. Then, Bilbo and the others gaped in astonishment as they watched him tip the bowl back, swallowing the dregs of the stew like it was going out of fashion. Hastily wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Bifur roughly brushed himself down, patted down his beard and hair, and – bizarrely - tapped the axe-blade in his forehead, before hurriedly walking towards the trees and disappearing into the shadows of the night.

Everyone at the fire was dumb-founded, save for Bilbo, obviously.

"What just happened?" exclaimed Ori, his eyes wide.

"Probably another "delicate matter", lads," said Nori with a grin. "Night nurse Óin, at your service! Tonight, Bifur, tomorrow, who knows? It could be any of us next!"

"Bloody stupid, saying foolish things ..." said Dori, cuffing a giggling Nori on the head.

But Bofur, concerned about his cousin's well-being, looked grim as he said, "Well, _I _want to know what all these "delicate matters" has to do with Bifur and if it's got to do with his being upset yesterday, and for goodness sake, what's with all this draggin' people behind trees in secrecy?"

"Perhaps Master Baggins will know," said Glóin suddenly, breaking his silence for the first time this evening.

Bilbo watched with rising dread as all eyes fell on him. His heart began to pound violently in his chest as Glóin got to his feet, staring down at the hobbit with a fierce expression.

"Tell me, Master Baggins, what's going on?" he said in a dangerously low voice. "What did you and Óin discuss that's making him act strangely? And perhaps you know what's wrong with Bifur, too?"

Bilbo gulped. He said aloud, "It's private. When Óin and Bifur return, you can ask them about their, uh, strange behaviours. That's all I can say right about now"

In his head, he thought, as he watched Glóin stepping forward, _Gandalf, I think now's the time to actually help me._

* * *

><p>The branches scraped against his arms. The hair on his head and beard got caught on the ends, tugging painfully. But Bifur didn't care. He walked on and on, huffing and puffing out of lack of breath. Finally, he emerged from out of the trees into a grassy clearing, lit up by the moonlight.<p>

And there was Óin, leaning against a tree a few metres away in front of him, and Bifur's breath got caught in his throat at the sight of him. The healer practically shone against the ink-black background of the sky, and his appearance was positively arresting. Uneasy, Bifur felt an urge to turn back, but his feet were planted firmly in the ground. Besides, he couldn't take his eyes off Óin, no matter how many times he tried.

The older dwarf raised his eyebrows when he saw Bifur. "That was quick."

The wild-haired dwarf took a step forward, an apprehensive look on his face. "_You wanted to s__peak to__ me?_" he signed in Iglishmêk.

"Yes, Bifur," answered Óin, quietly. He also took a step forward, and Bifur's heart skipped a beat. "It's about somethin' that we _must _talk about before we continue on this quest. It's been on my mind all day, and now's the time to discuss it."

"_Ma shândi_," said Bifur in Khuzdûl, confused. _I don't understand._

"You will when I show you," replied Óin, and Bifur watched curiously as the healer reached into his pocket and pulled out a small object.

When Bifur saw the toy in Óin's gloved hand, his mouth fell open in surprise, and his cheeks turned pink. His heart practically exploded in his chest at the sight of the toy – the toy he painstakingly carved, the toy he was immensely proud of, the item that caused him grief when he thought it lost forever – and _here it was in Óin's hand!_

A rush of emotions – surprise, joy, relief, confusion, anxiety and fear – was what Bifur was feeling at that moment as he stared at the toy. Thoughts ran wildly through his axe-embedded head, but he couldn't make sense of it. No, all he could do was look in bewilderment at the figurine.

The life-sized Óin watched Bifur's reaction silently, though he could hear his own heart pounding in his chest. When the manic dwarf finally looked up and their gazes locked, Óin's felt an unexplainable warmth spread over his body.

"_Where did you find that?_" signed Bifur, coming closer with a questionable expression.

"I came by it by accident, after you lost it last night," replied Óin quickly, not wanting to bring up Bilbo's finding it quite yet.

"_You knew it was mine?_"

"Of course, lad, only _you_ can make such items, elaborated ones at that," said Óin.

He looked at the wild-haired dwarf hard. "I've been carryin' this here toy all day, and my mind's been preoccupied with so many thoughts about it. Needless to say, I was surprised to find that you made this in my likeness, and curious about _why_ you made it. The more I thought about it, the more snippy I got, as Glóin realised – it was too much to take in. Because this toy … well, it's _amazing._"

Óin looked down, a blush fast appearing on his cheeks, and Bifur didn't know what to say. He looked at the healer with wide eyes until the grey-haired dwarf looked up again, sheepish.

"I don't mean it in a vain way, of course. I'm just … well, I'm just flattered that you made a toy of me. I've never seen anythin' like this before, and it touched me so. But I'm _still_ stumped as to why you made this, what its purpose was … and I daresay it's making me frazzled to think about.

"So, Bifur," he whispered, stepping closer to the wild-haired dwarf. Gently, he took a surprised Bifur's hand and placed the small toy in it, closing the toymaker's fingers over the toy. His own fingers tingled at the touch. "_Kahomhîlizu_, tell me what this is all supposed to mean."

When Óin made to let go, Bifur suddenly grabbed the healer's withdrawing hand. The manic dwarf repeated Óin's actions: placing the toy back in the healer's hand, closing the fingers over it. Without thinking about it, he lightly stroked the stunned healer's knuckles with his thumb before signing:

"_Keep it. I made this for you._"

"Made it for _me_?"

Bifur nodded. "_Dolek_." _A gift._

"A gift?" repeated Óin, his brown eyes widening in amazement. His heart fluttered away in his chest like a bird flying around in its cage as Bifur slowly stroked his hand.

Again, the wild-haired dwarf nodded.

"A _courting_ gift?" pressed the healer in a whisper.

Bifur paused, his eyes meeting Óin's. The older dwarf stared back, urging him silently with his brown orbs. They remained silent for a few seconds, though his pounding heart – in answer to the healer's question – nearly deafened Bifur. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself; he felt the other dwarf patting his hand reassuringly, and his skin positively _burned _at the touch.

Finally, Bifur signed slowly, "_Yes._"

There it was – the answer Óin had been waiting for. _Yes. __Bifur is courting me._

Suddenly, all of his doubts, his frustrations, his nerves and his confusion fell away. He felt a sense of liberation from these terrible emotions that had haunted from the night before up until this moment. The older dwarf found he could breathe more easily, and he welcomed the warmth that had spread all over his body once more as he gazed upon the wild-haired dwarf – _it felt right_.

Bifur, meanwhile, was feeling the exact way. Immediately as he uttered that single word, relief erupted throughout his entire being: he had said it – _he finally told Óin that he wanted to court him. _Almost soon after, a sense of dread followed: _what__'s Óin going to say? Is he angry? _When he searched the healer's face for a sign of disgust or anger, he was surprised – and over-the-top happy – to see the other dwarf's eyes sparkling. Nothing looked so beautiful as those twinkling orbs, not even the stars that shone above their heads. The healer's radiance gave Bifur the strength to continue signing:

"_Yes. I've been carving this for you in secret since we left the hobbit's home. __Of course, I've only been working on this piece at night, when everyone is sleeping or when I'm watch, __so no one knew what I was up to. __When we're all out on the road, I would just watch you so that I could whittle and carve the details for later. It was difficult, but I think I did alright with it._"

Here his face took on a rosy hue again. "_So that's why I was a bit upset last night: __I was angry at myself for losing it, __because I spent so much time on it, and I wanted you to like it, __even though it wasn't ready yet__ ..._"

"Bifur ..." whispered Óin, basking in the warmth. "I_ love _it, you hear me? I can't see what other improvements you can make. It's perfect the way it is, 'less you want to make it look younger," he added with a chuckle.

Bifur looked up at Óin, his face suddenly beaming in light of the compliment. "_You like it?_"

"Aye, lad, that I do," affirmed the grey-haired dwarf, patting the other's hand affectionately. He gestured to the toy in his hand. "'Tis lovely that you're givin' it to me as a gift, and I shall certainly cherish it. _Dôlzekh __m__enu_."

With that being said, Óin, clutching the toy to his chest, leaned in and pressed his lips against Bifur's cheek.

The wild-haired dwarf nearly fainted at the small kiss. Fireworks were going off in his head, and his skin burned once more at the contact. Light was dancing in front of his eyes …

Óin withdrew, his skin a dark shade of rosy-pink, and it amused him to see Bifur standing there, looking so shocked. His grey eyes were wider than Bilbo Baggin's dinner plates; his mouth was slightly parted; his hands were pressed firmly to his sides, as if to steady himself and to prevent himself from falling down.

Óin opened his mouth to ask Bifur if he was alright, but he never got the chance: two arms shot out, hands cupped his face and the healer felt himself quickly pulled forward. Before he could yelp out, Bifur – tilting the older dwarf's head slightly to prevent his axe hitting him – pressed his mouth against the other's and kissed him.

It wasn't that long a kiss, if you had to witness it, but for these two dwarves it seemed to last for eternity. Óin, initially surprised, melted into the kiss, kissing Bifur back with the same fervour exhibited by the other dwarf. He put his hands on the wild-haired dwarf's shoulders to deepen the kiss, holding the toy limply by its base. Bifur enjoyed the feeling of the healer's lips against his own, and he certainly felt a buzz as he explored the warmth, his nimble fingers running through the other's beard, tugging on one of his braids …

They broke apart, breathless. Óin rested his forehead against Bifur's, and both looked completely flushed. The toy was pressed once more against the healer's chest.

Bifur gazed upon his One – _yes, Óin is my One –_ with a smile, caressing his cheek. "_Gh__i__vasha._"

Óin grinned broadly at the Khuzdûl word. "My, you certainly have a way with wooin' an old dwarf like me," he said coquettishly.

Bifur responded to this by kissing Óin's cheek, muttering "_Gh__i__vasha_" once more before kissing him on the lips again. Unfortunately for him, the healer broke the kiss too soon, and the grey-haired dwarf had to refrain himself from laughing out loud at the hurt look on his One's face.

"Plenty o' time for that later," he assured Bifur, taking an opportunity to tug one of the manic dwarf's braids. When Bifur's disappointed face brightened up at the proclamation, Óin took the wild-haired dwarf's hand into his own, squeezing it gently.

"I think it's high-time we return, b'fore Glóin burns down this forest to find us," said Óin with a sheepish grin. "I still have to apologise to _nadadith _for snapping at him earlier."

"_Do you think he will accept me as your One?_" signed Bifur, looking a little worried.

"After goin' on for so long without someone in my life, I expect he'll be pleased. Besides, he likes you, so don't you fret about a thing. Now come on, let's go back."

Hand in hand, with the gift safely pocketed, Bifur and Óin began to make their way back to camp.

Though for some odd reason, something was niggling at the back of the healer's mind, something he was supposed to tell the manic dwarf, but for the life of him he could not remember.

* * *

><p>Bilbo was having a terrible time.<p>

Here he was, being shielded by Gandalf, Thorin (whom he'd thought would never, ever, ever, ever, _ever_ consider coming to the hobbit's aid), Bofur and Ori as the rest of the dwarves tried to hold back Glóin from advancing on him. The fiery-haired dwarf, clearly unsatisfied with Bilbo's answer to his question about his brother and Bifur, decided to give the hobbit a piece of his mind. Unfortunately for him, the others were too fast for him. Nori and Dori pinned down his arms; Fíli and Kíli grasped his flailing legs; Dwalin and Balin, acting as back-ups, kept watch.

Oh, and Bombur was sitting on top of him.

Yes, Bilbo certainly didn't feel particularly enthusiastic at that moment. _1/14th share of the treasure won't be enough to cover my funeral expenses if Glóin g__e__t__s__ his hands me._

So Glóin, lying on the ground without much choice, took to threatening the hobbit instead with things like, "I'm goin' to chop off your limbs first and your head LAST!" and "If I so much as set foot in Bag End, I'll break every bloody plate of yours I see!"

Bilbo grimaced at the thought.

"Leave him be, Master Glóin," said Gandalf calmly. "No need to be angry nor violent."

"Who's violent? I'm DAMN CHEERFUL!" roared the dwarf, trying desperately to push Bombur off him, without success, obviously.

"What in Mahal's beard is goin' on?!"

Bilbo, Gandalf and the dwarves turned around at the source of the exclamation: Óin and Bifur, having emerged from the shadows at long last, stood shocked and wide-eyed at the ridiculous sight before them.

But what really astonished the Company was that the healer and the toymaker were … _holding hands?!_

Everyone got to their feet, including Glóin, who was too stunned to see his brother holding hands with _Bifur_ to notice the pains in his body, legs and arms. Bofur and Bombur stepped forward, astounded to see their cousin partaking in such an intimate gesture with _Óin._

"Can someone _please _explain to us what's been happening whilst we were gone?" asked Óin in a stern voice, unaware of his companions' shocks. "What kind of nonsense have you all been up to?"

"I should be asking you the same thing, brother," retorted Glóin at last, looking from Óin to Bifur and back to his brother again. "Where did you wander off to? And why are you two holding hands?"

Bilbo peeked from Gandalf and Thorin, and caught Óin's eye, looking hopeful. The healer offered a small smile, and the hobbit no longer felt fear, but beautiful, sweet relief as he inwardly rejoiced in being freed from Bifur's wrath.

Smiling at the hobbit – though the niggling feeling grew stronger – Óin smiled at the rest of the Company as he declared, "If you must know, Bifur is courting me."

"WHAT!" the dwarves exclaimed, save Gandalf and Bilbo, who both grinned. "Courting you? Is that true?"

"_True, my friends. Óin is my One, and I am his,_" signed Bifur, squeezing Óin's hand lovingly.

"That's FANTASTIC!" exclaimed Bofur proudly, bouncing forward and capturing Bifur in a large hug. "Good on you, Bifur, you sly old thing!"

"Terrific!" declared Bombur, drawing a half-reluctant Óin into a bone-crunching hug. "I'm sorry I ever thought of never making my stew again because you were too love-sick to eat."

The other dwarves surrounded the two, offering their hearty congratulations, hard pats on the back, and even a few more hugs. Glóin, still apprehensive of Óin's choice of suitor, nevertheless embraced his brother, congratulating him on his happiness, and he gave Bifur a one-armed hug, which pleased the wild-haired dwarf more than anything. Óin even apologised to his younger brother about his earlier outburst, and even joked that if the healer snapped like that again, Glóin had permission to knock him on the head with his own ear-trumpet.

As things quieted down, Ori piped up, "Mister Bifur, how did you start to court Mister Óin?"

"Really, Ori, that's none of your business!" hushed Dori, glaring at Nori as if their younger brother's question was all the star-shaped-haired dwarf's fault.

"_It's fine, Dori, __we__ don't mind sharing,_" signed Bifur with a grin, putting his arm around Óin's waist.

"Aye, that's right," agreed Óin. He reached into his pocket, and Bilbo watched as he brought out the toy. He explained that Bifur had been making it since the beginning of the quest, and how he intended to give it to him as a courting gift. The other dwarves admired the intricacy of the figurine, indubitably impressed, and they chuckled when Bifur signed, "_And then I thought I lost it._"

"Ah, no wonder you went mad last night!" said Bofur, now understanding. "You should have said something so we could have helped you, you stubborn bugger."

_By Mahal's beard, what _is it _I'm supposed to have told Bifur? _thought Óin to himself furiously. The niggling feeling was so strong now …

"It would have remained lost if _I_ hadn't found it," piped up Bilbo, feeling more than pleased to share his story without fear, now that Óin had set the record straight with Bifur.

All eyes fell on the hobbit. Óin's own orbs widened when the realisation dawned on him: _he had completely and utterly forgotten to tell Bifur about Bilbo finding the toy first._

The healer glanced out of the corner of his eye at his One: Bifur was staring at the hobbit, astonished at his proclamation. His grip around the grey-haired dwarf's waist loosened as he stepped forward with every word that began to pass out the oblivious Bilbo's mouth.

"Oh yes, I found the toy yesterday," Bilbo told his audience, unaware of Bifur's oncoming approach and Óin's desperate hand-signalling to the hobbit. "Fell out of Bifur's sack before we set up camp. You'll remember, Bofur, Bombur, when I fell behind to pick that apple up – I found the toy then. Of course, I didn't know what to think of it, so I pulled Óin aside last night, showed the toy to him and reckoned that perhaps Bifur had feelings for him. Hence, all the secrecy, Glóin," he added, grinning sheepishly at the fiery-haired dwarf, who – along with the others – began to understand why Bilbo had dragged Óin behind the trees; why Bifur had been miserable, and why Óin had been snippy before dragging Bifur himself behind more trees. "Delicate matters", indeed!

Bilbo looked up to see Bifur standing in front of him, and he smiled apologetically, totally unaware of the manic dwarf's rising anger. "So, Bifur, as I'm sure Óin explained to you, I didn't steal the toy, as you probably thought, and I didn't mean to cause you any distress. I could have given it back to you myself, but it seems to have all worked out in the end – Bifur? Why are you staring at me like that?"

The manic dwarf was, to all eyes, staring daggers at the hobbit, who suddenly became very uncomfortable before Bifur's gaze. The dwarf's fists were clenched tight, trembling slightly. He was breathing hard, and his eyes were burning with unmistakable ire.

"Bifur?" the hobbit squeaked, taking a step back. "Are you alright?"

"_Ozodl __melekûn!_" cried Bifur, shaking his fist at a dumbfounded Bilbo.

"What?" the poor hobbit said. He glanced at Óin with questioning eyes, and felt his stomach drop violently when the healer whispered meekly, "Bilbo, I _forgot_ to tell him."

Bilbo gulped, and gulped again. He turned his horrified face back to Bifur, who had taken a menacing step forward, shaking his fists and crying again, "_Ozodl __melekûn!_"

With that said, the manic dwarf jumped at Bilbo, and the hobbit quickly darted to the left with a loud "Yipe!" and ran for his life. Bifur followed, running after the poor hobbit and shouting threats in Khuzdûl.

Óin couldn't help it, but the scene looked so comical that he began to laugh. Gandalf and the dwarves were also laughing at the sight of their burglar running around in circles and being pursued by the wild-haired dwarf.

The healer smiled. _His _wild-haired dwarf.

* * *

><p>"It really is a beautiful piece," quietly remarked Óin again, running his fingers over the figurine.<p>

Bifur grinned. "_It doesn't compare to the real thing._"

Óin beamed, and Bifur took this as a cue to cup the other's chin and plant a tender kiss on his lips.

"_Ghivasha_," he said, adoring, pulling back a few inches to gaze at Óin. "_M__ê__nu tessu, __ghivasha. __M__ê__n lananubukhs m__ê__nu."_

The healer blushed as he replied breathlessly, "I love you too, Bifur. You are - "

"For the love of Mahal, go to sleep, brother!" rumbled Glóin, lying in his bedroll a little away from the couple. "Otherwise I shall gladly hit you with your ear-trumpet."

Bifur and Óin sighed. They were sitting upright in their bedrolls, leaning against each other. Everyone else had already settled down to sleep, save for Nori and Bofur who were on watch and sitting by the fire. Bilbo, bless him, was asleep near Thorin. Even though he ran behind Gandalf for safety when the manic dwarf was chasing him, the poor hobbit still felt a bit wary and slept closest to the nearest person who could protect him from the manic dwarf, and that was Thorin, apparently.

Gazing fondly at the curly-haired head of the sleeping hobbit, Óin turned and whispered to Bifur, "You won't try to chase him again, will you?"

"_I'll stop chasing him only when I catch him,_" signed Bifur, a wicked glint in his eyes.

Óin gently pushed the toymaker's shoulder. "You do realise that the hobbit brought us together? Because he recovered this toy?"

"_I know._"

"And I won't let you forget it, either," retorted Óin with a grin, bringing the toy to his chest. "We owe him our thanks."

"Óiiiiiin …!"

"Alright, _nadadith_, keep your beard on!" said Óin, glaring in Glóin's direction. He looked at Bifur and smiled apologetically. "_Sorry, Bifur_," he signed. "_Glóin wouldn't be making such a fuss if he wasn't concerned. He's not used to seeing me – or hearing me – being intimate with anyone._"

"_He'll never get used to me being your One, will he?_" signed Bifur, looking slightly dejected. He self-consciously touched the axe-blade in his forehead.

"_He will have to learn,_" assured Óin, taking the wild-haired dwarf's hand into his own. "_Come, I think it's time we retire for the night._"

Bifur nodded, and the two dwarves settled down into their bedrolls. They laid on their sides, facing each other. Bifur's arm found its way around Óin's waist, and the grey-haired dwarf rested his head against the other dwarf's chest, holding the precious toy to his own chest. Both the dwarves, who had for many years never been intimate with anyone, enjoyed being this close to each other, savouring the warmth and the close contact of their bodies, breathing in harmony.

Óin looked up at Bifur, his brown eyes barely open, and whispered softly, "Promise me you won't chase and hurt Bilbo?"

Bifur pressed a reassuring kiss to his One's forehead. "_Promise._"

"Good," mumbled Óin, before closing his eyes and succumbing to sleep, his grip still tight on his gift.

Bifur pulled the sleeping dwarf closer to him. His own eyes were also half-open, so he pressed another kiss to Óin's forehead, whispered "_Lomil ghelekh, _Óin," and settled in to sleep. He cast one last look at the toy in the healer's hands, and his heart warmed with joy. Indeed, it brought him and Óin together, but it wouldn't have been possible if not for Master Bilbo Baggins …

The last thought that came to Bifur before sleep took him, was that tomorrow morning, for helping him find and claim his _ghivasha_, Bifur was going to chase the hobbit and, when he caught him, hug him.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **_Kahomhîlizu –_ **Please**; _Dôlzekh __m__enu_ – t**hank you**; _Ghivasha_ – **treasure**; _nadadith –_ **little brother**; _Ozodl __melekûn! - _**Wicked hobbit!**; _M__ê__nu tessu, __ghivasha. __M__ê__n lananubukhs m__ê__nu – _**You're my everything, treasure. I love you**; _Lomil ghelekh, _Óin – **Good night, Óin**.

Yay, finished! Hoped you like it – from one-shot to two-shot. What can I say? I love these two, especially together. Support these guys, people. :3 I'll certainly be writing more fics about them in the future.

Reviews are welcome!

*~AI07~* ;)


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